Gates of Roses
by Spinny Roses
Summary: A power to revolutionize the world... and it lies within the body of one blond Slytherin (eventual slash, Shoujo Kakumei Utena elements)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.

Gates of Roses

By Spinny Roses

Somehow, Hogwarts was exactly and wildly different than Harry expected it to be. But then again, that's how the entire wizarding world seemed to be. The Sorting Ceremony... sorted into their houses by a rather comical looking hat? But, as usual, the Sorting Hat was just one of the many wizarding tools that was highly accurate and useful. 

Chatter swirled around the boy, none of it directed to him. He listened to the girl he met on the train... Hermione was her name, discuss the lessons she would be taking. It was rather boring prattle to him, but Percy Weasley appeared to be highly interested in explaining to the girl about the first year lessons. Harry jumped a little as a ghost appeared next to him, looking down at the steak he was cutting up. "That does look good," the ghost mourned.

"Can't you --?"

"I haven't eaten in nearly four hundred years," the ghost explained archly. "I don't think I've introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

Suddenly, Ron spoke up. " I know who you are! My brothers told me about you -- Nearly Headless Nick!"

Attracted by the conversation, Seamus Finnigan asked, "How can one be _nearly_ headless?"

With an irritated look, Sir Nicholas seized his left ear and yanked. His head fell down to his shoulder, still connected to the rest of the body by a macabre hinge of flesh. Harry gulped, shocked at the display. Sir Nicholas put his head back on straight, pleased. "So! New Gryffindors, are you planning on winning the house championship this year? Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron -- he's the Slytherin ghost -- is becoming almost unbearable."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, eyes first going to the witches and wizards still alive there. It looked to be a rather conniving and slimy bunch, how could he have possibly been thought to be sorted --

Stunned, Harry's thoughts grinded to a halt. A blond Slytherin was looking up at the Gryffindor table. No... he was looking at _Harry_. Very steadily, almost... hungrily. Harry flushed, and looked away, barely noting the Slytherin's ghost, then scanned the table again.

The boy was no longer there.

The hall slowly quieted, all topics obviously exhausted, when Professor Dumbledore stood. Harry put the matter out of his head, and listened.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I would like to give a few start-of-term notices. First year students should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils." Dumbledore turned his twinkling eyes to the Weasley twins. "And a few of the older students would do well to remember that as well."

The twins smiled innocently, the hamsters in their brains already asking for another to relieve them.

"I also must remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch."

Quidditch? What was Quidditch?

"And finally, no student is allowed to walk around the grounds by his or her self," the professor finished, his voice strangely solemn and sad.

After a few confused blinks, Ron took pity on the confused boy. "I heard this story from Fred and George," he whispered to Harry. "In their first year, there was this big experiment going on. It was real hush-hush. To this day, not one person knows what the experiment was truly about. But, what put the experiment to an end was a sudden earthquake, centered around one room. When the teachers got there, there was blood all over the room, and... well, a student died."

"A student _died_?" Harry asked, his voice thick with shock.

Ron nodded, his red top bobbing sagely. "Yes. At least, that's the story. That's not the worse of it. Ever since then, people have reported seeing the student around the grounds. Those people who said they saw this student had disappeared or died horribly, supposedly in the same fashion the first student did."

"That's sick," Harry whispered back, aghast. "How did the student, the first one, die?"

At this, the newest Weasley student looked uncertain. "I don't know. But the other students that died... they were dismembered down to every joint."

Harry swallowed, the image those words conjured horrible. "That's _sick_," he repeated, his voice turning faint with shock. He was prepared to say more when a sudden burst of song interrupted his thoughts. When the song was over, he leaned over to speak to Ron again only to find he had gotten up to follow the rest of the Gryffindor students to their dorms. Sighing, he stood, looking around the hall.

Yes, over there were the Hufflepuff students... that crowd were the Ravenclaw group... and the slimy looking students were Slytherin...

The blond Slytherin was there. With the exact same look as before. Slowly, he nodded, his lips moving. Silent or not, it wouldn't have been heard in the din. However, his meaning came across clear.

_Je vous attends ici._

He mouthed the words, bewildered. Ron saw his lips moving in confusion. "What was that, Harry?"

Harry stumbled over the pronunciation. "I think it's French, but I don't know..."

"You're pronouncing it wrong," Hermione cut in, her voice as stiff as usual. "First day at Hogwarts, Harry Potter, and you already have an admirer."

"What, I..." Harry trailed off. "You know what it means?"

Briefly, the girl looked uncomfortable. "Along the lines of 'I await you here,' or some such admiring nonsense." She spun quickly on her heel, striding off after the other Gryffindor students.

"I don't believe she knows what it means either," Ron confided in his new friend. "She was just unable to believe she didn't know something."

Harry lifted an amused eyebrow, looking back over at the Slytherin group as Ron chattered on.

The pale haired boy was no where to be seen.

***

If Harry was to catch another glimpse of the pale haired Slytherin, he was going to check himself into a mental ward. It had been a month since the first time he saw the boy, and at every turn, he would see him, looking over at him with an inscrutable look. A blink later, he would be gone! The worst seemed to be as he was on his way to Potions, as he would see the boy almost every day.

That would be nothing special, except... during the Sorting Ceremony, there was no boy with such pale hair sorted into Slytherin. Perhaps he was in fact a second year student, however... Harry's instincts screamed differently. There was something... too young about him to be considered a second year student.

"Ron, are you sure there are no records of the experiment?" he found himself asking constantly throughout the year. "Who was in it, who the student was..." The answer was always the same.

"Sorry Harry. Maybe in the Restricted section of the library, but no one's allowed to get to those books."

Other than the random sight of the pale haired Slytherin, life at Hogwarts had fallen into a predictable pattern, right up to when in Potions class Professor Snape would aim a barb at The Boy Who Lived. One could almost time a watch to it. It set up a rather comfortable, if at time annoying rhythm.

"Come on, Harry! Or you'll be late!"

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, and gathered up his books. They were being rather slippery buggers today, and he struggled to keep them together as he followed Ron out of the Gryffindor tower. One book slipped out of the middle, and clattered to the ground, the rest of the books following shortly after. "Go on. I'll catch up," he told his redheaded friend, bending down to collect everything.

Everything finally seemed to be in order when one book stood out. Curious, Harry picked it up, flipping the cover over. His eyes widened as he took in the diary format and the words scrawled elegantly on the page.

October 9 

_Had another amusing Potions class today. Gryffindor gits never are able to get a potion correct. I wonder why Professor Snape even teaches outside the Slytherin house. Must be the Headmaster's orders._

_Found a very interesting spell. Showed it to Snape. He said it would be worth attempting, if only to see how You-Know-Who continues to live. Obtaining "eternity," how interesting._

Harry sat down in a nearby chair, not even caring he was missing Defence Against the Dark Arts. Was this one of the students that took place in the failed experiment?

Perhaps even the one who died?

He read on, eyes skipping over the passages about mocking the other students or rather intense Snape worship. Whoever wrote this diary had what appeared quite a crush on the oily Potions professor. Another turn of the page, and Harry stopped, startled. The whole page... was covered in hastily scribbled equations. Certain answers were circled, or crossed out heavily. Near one corner of the page, there were words scrawled there.

_Castle where eternity lives..._

_Dreams Miracles to be opened unlocked in the castle..._

_Need sword..._

Hesitantly, Harry turned the page, ready for another mess of magical equations and unusual ramblings. Instead, there was only a sketch... a very simple rose crest and two phrases.

_Je vous attends ici._

_Engage toi à mes côntés._

Harry slammed the book shut, startled. Two French phrases... one, as Hermione said, meant "I await you here." The other... he found his lips moving, speaking the meaning.

"Engage yourself to me."

He dropped the book on the ground, shaking himself. It seemed to be the diary of the student that had taken part in the experiments. But how did it end up with his books? Harry picked up the diary again, looking at the cover. Something was in here. Something powerful. Without knowing why, he went back to his bed and slid the book under his pillow. He'd take a look at it after...

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the time. Defence Against the Dark Arts was long over. He had spent the entire time reading the diary, and it was about time for Potions. How could he have spent his time on something so trivial, Harry asked himself as he rushed out the door. If he was late, Snape was going to have his head on a platter... or worse, _that_ head on a pl-

"Oof!" Again, his books went flying as Harry bumped into a student. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. I..."

"It's perfectly alright... Harry Potter," a rich, stiff voice said, the youthful intonations giving away the fact this was a first year student. "I've been waiting for you."

Harry looked up from his panicked gathering of books, and froze. The boy he had seen before, the blond Slytherin... was picking himself off the floor, nose in the air as he smoothed down his robes. "I've been seeing you..."

"Of course you have," the boy intoned, voice condescending. "I've been wanting you to see me." He placed a hand on Harry's gathered books, and moved in close. "I've been waiting for you here."

_I await you here._

Harry swayed on his feet, suddenly dizzy. "You've been..."

"Are you really this stupid, or is it my dazzling face that's made you forget your wits?" the boy snapped, face scrunching up in an irritated scowl. "Yes, I have _been._" His head tilted up slightly, pinning Harry there with each breath that whispered across his lips. "Except, not _here_. I await you..."

A group of upperclass students walked by, chatting, the noise drowning out whatever the Slytherin was to say. His eyes closed briefly, then opened to the sight of nothing but the school in front of him. Harry spun around, trying to find who he had been talking to.

No one was around.

Sighing, he shook his head. He needed more sleep, obviously, if he was hallucinating. Harry started walking off to Potions when his foot kicked something small. Slowly, he bent down, and picked up the object.

It was a ring. A white ring, with the rose crest engraved on it.

Harry leaned against a pillar, feeling dizzy yet again. The words, this time spoken with the contemptuous Slytherin's voice, rang through his head.

_I await you here._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.

Gates of Roses

By Spinny Roses

Chapter 2

"Uh, Harry?"

The boy ignored the voice, feverishly reading about the history of magical experiments in Hogwarts. Ever since he had received the ring, the blond hadn't been seen. However... he was close to finding out who the student was. Harry knew it, he was...

"HARRY!"

"Yes, Ron?" he asked, distracted from his studying. "What... oh." He blinked, taking in Ron's nightclothes. And the lightening sky. And the students stumbling down the stairs, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"What is wrong, anyway?" Ron started. "You don't sleep anymore, or eat much, or watch Quidditch..." The redhead's eyes took in the book on Harry's lap and the ring on the table. "Ever since some girl gave that ring to you, all you've done is study... oh, did Hermione  give you that ring, to make you actually study?"

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes, and turned back to his book. "I'll be down in a bit for breakfast," he told Ron absently, immersing himself back into the words.

"Oh, you're not missing another breakfast." Ron swiftly pulled the book out from under Harry's nose. "Come on. All study and no pranks make for a dull wizard."

"Hey!" He looked up, reaching for the book. "I said I'll be down." Harry suddenly lost his balance, and gripped the arm of the chair. "Uh. Ron, go _away_, I'm fine," he bit out, crossly. "Just a little dizzy, that's all." Slowly, he stood from the chair, one hand holding the arm of the chair in a death grip as he pocketed the ring.

The youngest male Weasley was flipping through the book Harry had been reading. "A book about the experiments at Hogwarts?" he asked, amazed. "Are you still going on about that story I told you? It may not even be true, you know."

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron about the diary he had found, then stopped. "I... I have to go change my robes," he said instead, starting up to his dorm. "I'll be down in a bit." He started up the stairs, not paying attention to his friend telling him to hurry up. The ring was burning a cold hole in his pocket, demanding attention. Slowly, Harry slipped the ring out as he sat on his bed.

It was a pretty ring. White, with a pink and white rose crest. And it appeared to be perfectly normal. Harry lifted the ring to his ring finger on his right hand. "Where did you come from?" he whispered. "Who died during the experiment?"

Thankfully, for Harry's sanity, the ring didn't answer. Wizard world or not, he still wasn't used to normally inanimate objects talking to him. He hesitated, then pressed the ring into his palm without putting it on. "What are you?" he asked, still whispering. Slowly, he pulled the diary out from under his bed, and placed the ring on top of the leather cover. His fingers traced a circle around the ring, only to be gently covered by a very pale hand. Harry lifted his head, his breath catching in his throat.

No one.

Harry looked wildly back down at the ring and diary. His own hand was covering the ring. Quickly, he snatched his hand away, his heart beating a rapid pulse against his chest. Harry sat like that for a minute, staring at the two items, before shoving them off his lap.

He quickly hid the diary and ring. Once he found out where the ring came from, Harry reasoned as he got dressed, he'd know who took place in the experiment and then he'd... Harry's thoughts stopped as his hands encountered a heavy, circular object in his robes. Slowly, he unfolded them.

The ring laid there against the black cloth, glimmering in the rising sun's light. Harry swayed on his feet, his nose thick with a rose scent as his vision misted over.

***

"Harry. Harry! Finnigan, we need to get him to the infirmary."

The raven haired boy groaned, slowly opening his eyes. "Ron, no... that's..." He rubbed his eyes, then stopped as he saw the robe in his lap. 

No ring. Harry quickly groped the fabric, feeling for if the ring had fallen into a fold. Nothing. Slowly, he turned green eyes up to look at Ron and Seamus. "That's okay," he finished belatedly. "I'll go see Madame Pomfrey as soon as I'm done dressing."

"We'll come with you," Seamus told him, and Ron quickly nodded.

Harry shook his head, slowly getting to his feet. "I can make it down there by myself," he reassured them, shaking his robe out. "I'm okay, Ron."

Still slightly disbelieving, Ron nodded. "Okay, Harry. We're going down to the common room." The redhead grabbed Seamus's arm, and started to drag him back down the stairs.

Harry instantly went to where he hid the diary and ring. His fingers scrabbled across the leather cover, and hit the smooth metal of the band. Slowly, he withdrew the ring, staring down at the crest. It trembled in his hand, and he put it back, taking the diary out instead. His hands instantly opened it to the page with the rose crest sketched on it, and the two French phrases.

"Engage yourself to me," he murmured. Slowly, Harry's emerald eyes widened. "French... that's it." There was a family whose child had gone to Hogwarts right around the time the experiment took place. Soon after the child attended, the parents fell into a deep depression. The mother had committed suicide. If he remembered correctly, the family had its roots in France. But who...?

Slowly, his hand traced one phrase. _Je vous attends ici. _"I await you here." The Slytherin had said that too. Where did he await him? He lifted his hand so only the tip of his index finger brushed the page with the barest of touches, and traced the lines of the crest. His eyes drifted shut in thought, a faint breeze touched with a rose scent wafted in from the window. A hand gently covered his, stilling his finger's motion as the other arm slid across his back and down his other arm.

"Bloody stupid Gryffindor," a voice hissed in his ear.

Harry's eyes snapped open, knowing no one was there. "Dozed off," he muttered, moving to close the diary. Something was in the way, though... he looked down, and pushed the book away, startled.

A beautiful, near perfect white rose laid there on the pages.

***

It was getting out of control. Harry watched his hands tremble as he flipped another page, and sighed, leaning back against the chair. He should take the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him for dreamless sleep, but even that didn't help. It had been a month since the rose had appeared, and the blond Slytherin had moved from his waking moments to his dreams. Every dream, he was there, smoothly asking him to slip the ring on... to engage himself to the Slytherin.

Harry tried to turn his attention back to the book, giving up as the words blurred beyond recognition. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking down at the book.

"That's not going to have what you need."

Quickly, Harry's head snapped up. A pale, lithe boy was sitting on one of the footstools, staring at the fire. "What are you doing here?" he whispered, moving for his wand.

The blond was silent for a few minutes, then turned to him, a bruise horribly obvious against the pale, delicate skin. Reluctantly, he said, "I need your help."

Harry sat up straighter. "Who...?"

Smirking, the boy waved a hand at the book in Harry's lap. "That book doesn't have me in it. The only one that was famous was my father." Harry looked down, straight into the sneering eyes of a pale haired wizard.

"Lucius Malfoy," Harry whispered. "Malfoy... that's it." He turned his head back up. "The French... it's because you're a Malfoy. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy's son..." At that, Harry's brain went blank. He knew he had seen the name, but he could. Not. Remember it!

"Not as stupid as most Gryffindors," Malfoy acknowledged. "That's not why I came here. The ring I gave to you..."

"You _gave_ to me?" Harry repeated, disbelieving. "You gave it to me?"

"Of course I did," Malfoy said condescendingly. "It wasn't just some random jewellery lying around, was it?"

Harry bristled at his tone, but refused to rise to the bait. "What about the ring?"

Malfoy's fingers twisted in his robe, seemingly unconsciously. "You can see me. That means... a noble heart..." He was fighting to get every word out. "You..."

A thought occurred to Harry. "How did you get in?"

The Slytherin relaxed. This was obviously an easy answer. "You're dreaming... Harry Potter."

Harry jerked his head off his chest, his neck sore from being in that position for so long. He had fallen asleep...

"Malfoy," he murmured. "That Slytherin..." Harry looked down at his lap, not at all surprised that the ring had migrated from the hiding spot to his legs. He plucked the ring off his lap, and examined it. "A noble heart... huh?" He placed the ring on the tip of his ring finger, and slowly pushed it down to rest at the base.

Nothing happened. Harry flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the ring as he moved. Still nothing.

That was anticlimactic, he thought. Harry yawned, noticing how tired he really was. A little sleep wouldn't hurt. After all, he had Potions in the morning, and sleep induced clumsiness was practically inviting Professor Snape to berate him.

There was a little voice screaming in the back of his mind, warning him about sleep and dreams. That was silly. He hadn't had a really bad nightmare or weird dream for months. Harry yawned again, starting up to his dorm room. He needed a good nights sleep. Too much studying had really done him in.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.

Notes: Thank you, Missi, for finally reviewing the second chapter. I know you were busy with some schools stuff, like I was, so I'm just glad you found the time to read and review. I must ask, though... "The Incident"?

Thank you to all the people who have reviewed so far and will review in the future. Reviews make plot bunnies bite my butt incessantly.

If anyone is wondering, I was taking Freshman Comp during the summer. I passed very, very well and thus don't have to take the course yet again. 

Gates of Roses

By Spinny Roses

Chapter 3

"You're looking a lot better now," Ron said approvingly. "And you've pulled your head out of those books."

Harry's eyes quickly flicked over to Professor Snape, making sure the sour teacher was occupied with making Neville's life miserable. "I don't know why I was doing all that studying," he whispered back. "There was really no rea-"

"Mr. Potter." A shadow fell over Harry's cauldron. "I assume what you are talking about pertains to the potion you are trying to make...?"

Harry stilled, and slowly looked up at Snape's face. His hand clenched, feeling the comforting weight of his ring. "O-of course, sir," he stammered, knowing that the professor would discern the lie of the statement.

Snape's eyes flickered down to the cauldron, then back up to sneer at Harry's face. "If that is the case, then perhaps I should test your knowledge of the potion now." His eyes snapped back down, only this time taking in the white band around Harry's ring finger. Harry's hand twitched, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"However," the professor continued, "the class will be over shortly. I expect your potion to be the best, _noble one_."

Harry jumped. "Sir? What did you just say?"

"Do you have a hearing problem? I said that I expect your potion to be the best, Mr. Potter."

Slowly, the raven haired boy nodded, relaxing. "Of course, sir." The ring hugged his finger comfortingly, a warm band of metal against flesh. Ignoring Ron ("Harry! Why are you relaxing? We barely started on our potion!"), he sat back in his seat, looking down at the pink crest.

He couldn't stand another moment in the dungeons. It was too stifling, too enclosed. Harry had to be outside, with the wind blowing around him. Methodically, he worked on the potion, yearning with all his heart to smell something other than frog's liver. He had to get outside, now!

"Class is over," Snape barked out. "Bring a vial of your potions to my desk."

Harry quickly filled a vial, and dropped it off on his way out. His nostrils ached for a different smell. Instead of following Ron to the Great Hall for lunch and a game of wizard's chess, he started taking a walk around the grounds. His feet moved more quickly than they ever had before as his heart desired to find the place he wanted.

Finally, the boy came to a rest on the edge of the lake, looking over the shimmering colours. It was actually very lovely, but Harry couldn't bring himself to enjoy it.

Something was missing.

Harry stared out over the water for a while, his thoughts drifting in lazy loops. His finger suddenly became extraordinarily heavy as the ring started biting into his skin. Absently, he flexed his fingers as he stood, gathering up his school material. He turned to leave when something flittered into his peripheral vision. Something red. The raven haired boy turned to see what it was and received something soft and red on his nose as a result. As it fell, he saw what it was.

A rose petal, blood red in colour.

"What...?" he whispered, surprised. Slowly, Harry looked around, trying to see where the petals were coming from. More petals hit his cheeks and forehead, lightly teasing him with their softness. He started walking in the direction of where the petals were coming from.

A soft, familiar scent was slowly springing up on the breeze. The scent of roses surrounded Harry in a warm embrace. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The rose scent was nice and comforting. His eyes opened slowly to take in an old and battered gate. Behind the twisted iron, a small neglected garden lay. The petals were gone, but the smell was as strong as ever.

Was this where he wanted to be? An old, long neglected garden? Harry reached down to open the gate, fully expecting the hinges to be rusted, but the gate swung open smoothly. He stood just behind the threshold, looking down at the dead flowers and overabundant weeds. He remained there for a minute longer, a little uneasy, then stepped into the garden.

A sudden gust of wind had him reflexively close his eyes. One hand raised over his eyes to protect them, and the softness of a rose petal slid over his skin. He opened his eyes, and gasped at the site before him.

A sea of roses laid before him. The garden wasn't small and dead, but large and filled with vibrant red roses. In the wind, the loose petals were torn from the sea to dance freely. The smell was light, not overpowering. Out of everything he had learned since discovering he was a wizard, this place was the most magical. Harry walked over to the centre of the garden, to the large dove fountain.

"Are you lost?"

Harry turned to the sound of an irritated voice biting out words. The speaker was the blond Slytherin he had seen.

_'Seen? Seen where?'_ Harry's brain popped up, trying to make him believe he wanted to think about where he had seen the Slytherin. It had probably been in one of his classes. After all, he had several classes with Slytherins. The boy standing before him... his name was...

"No, Malfoy, I'm not lost," Harry shot back coolly. His hand flexed, feeling the light weight of the ring as he moved. He felt like there was something special about the blond before him, but the only thing he could come up with was that Malfoy was an insufferable git.

Malfoy's distant eyes glanced quickly at the ring, then back up into Harry's emerald eyes. "You do qualify to be here," he said reluctantly. After saying that, Malfoy picked up a hose and started spraying the roses.

"A Malfoy, doing work?" Harry jeered, inwardly shocked at his behaviour. He was acting as if he knew the boy, but that had to be impossible.

Didn't it?

Malfoy didn't answer immediately. "Even I have a Master, Potter," he said softly, voice devoid of all emotions. "I belong here, with the roses, tending to them. For that is what my Master has told me." His hands clenched, belying his voice.

Harry blinked at Malfoy's words and actions. "What are you...?" he asked, reaching out for the boy.

"Manhandling my property, Potter?" A singularly ugly boy with worse teeth than Hermione appeared behind Malfoy, his hand firmly on the smaller boy's shoulder. "Didn't anyone teach you it isn't nice to play with what belongs to someone else?" With a vicious yank, the boy pulled Malfoy to his chest.

One word stood out to the Gryffindor. "Property?" Harry bristled at the thought that the wizarding world was still using humans as slaves. "A person isn't property!"

"No, _a person is not property," the boy sneered. "However, Draco isn't a person. Are you?"_

Malfoy said blankly, "I am not a person." His eyes glinted, the only sign of rebellion

"Who is your Master?"

"You are, Flint." His hands twitched.

Flint raised his eyes to the disgusted Harry. "You see? This boy..." He traced a line down Malfoy's cheek. "...has no soul. He is my property."

"A human being can't be property." Harry stubbornly repeated, his hands flexing. Rules be damned; if Flint pissed him off more, he was going for his wand.

Flint glanced from the Gryffindor badge down at his ring. "Ah." His other hand rose to pet Malfoy's hair, a similar ring encircling his ring finger. "So you duel. And here I thought you were just a stupid Gryffindor." He ignored how Harry took offence at that, and gripped Malfoy's pointed chin in a hard grasp. "You want to free him? It isn't possible, Potter."

"Yes." Harry set his jaw, determined. "Yes, it is possible."

Flint tilted his head to one side, then released Malfoy. "Prepare us, Draco."

Harry may not have known anything about wizard duels, but somehow he believed it had nothing to do with Malfoy picking two roses from the vast sea before him. The blond walked over to Harry, and fixed the rose onto his robe with a little magic. "When your rose's petals are scattered, you lose the duel," he murmured ritualistically. "Potter... do you have your wand?"

Harry nodded, reaching for his wand as Malfoy went over to Flint to fix the rose to his robe. He watched as Flint pulled out his wand, and handed it to Malfoy. The younger boy held the wand to his chest, and it disappeared in a burst of light. Before Harry had a chance to say anything, Flint shoved his hand into Malfoy's chest to pull out a perfectly clean rapier.

Malfoy turned to Harry, his eyes tired, as he reached for Potter's wand. Reluctantly, he gave the blond his wand. He couldn't do what Flint had done... reaching into Malfoy's _chest_ like that. There had to be another way... one that didn't include hurting Malfoy.

Rose petals swept past Harry's face as Malfoy opened his hands, the Gryffindor's wand gone. Gently, the blond placed his hand in the middle of his own chest, then frowned.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Flint asked acerbically. "Draw the sword!"

"I can't," Malfoy got out around clenched teeth. "There isn't a sword to draw." He lowered his hands, stepping back.

"No..." Flint laughed. "In other words, he randomly picked up that ring. There's nothing special about this boy, other than he's the Boy Who Lived." He raised his rapier. "Well then. We should finish this duel as soon as possible so I can do what I had planned." Flint slid into position, then struck, aiming perfectly for the rose.

Harry twisted away, his hand covering the rose. "I don't need a sword to duel," he said recklessly. "I'll beat you without one."

"You can't duel without a sword." Flint stabbed out again, trying for the rose.

Harry dodged again, the rapier leaving a long scratch on his hand. "I won't lose."

Flint smirked, and struck again. "You've already... Draco!" He deflected his strike at the last moment, causing a deep cut to appear on Malfoy's pale cheek.

Malfoy stood between the two boys, defiance written in every twitch of muscle. "One cannot duel without a sword." He turned to Harry, and cupped his cheek, gently sliding to rest on Harry's chest. Malfoy looked up into Harry's eyes, then leaned forward so their lips were barely touching. "Do you promise to win?" he whispered.

"I will win," Harry promised. He felt too small for his skin. Something had to come out...

Malfoy pulled his hand away, and a sword started to spring from the Gryffindor's chest to follow his hand. Harry barely heard Flint gasp. Instead, he bent back, allowing the sword to be drawn fully. He watched the blade point to the sky, and he straightened his back, reflexively sliding an arm behind Malfoy to keep him from falling over. Harry reached out, and took the sword. Then he pointed it at Flint, ready to stake the duel on one strike.

Malfoy regained his balance and stepped away from Harry. Flint watched this with narrowed eyes. "Impossible," he hissed. "It was drawn... from..." He straightened. "No matter. You will lose anyway."

Harry tensed, then starting running at Flint, prepared to slash the rose off. Flint took the challenge, and charged at him. The two combatants met with the sound of the two swords meeting, and the air was filled with rose petals as a wind sprung up. He turned to see Flint falling to his knees in defeat, Harry's own rose still perfect. He automatically shifted his grip as the sword transformed back to his wand.

Malfoy looked down at Flint, then at Harry. Slowly, he fell to his knees in servitude. "Harry Potter. I am Draco Malfoy. From this day forward, I am your flower."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Idea only I own, characters belong to J.K. Rowling they do and weird ideas belong to Chiho Saito and Bepapas, they do.

Notes: I am quite aware of how many Utena-movie elements there are. It's a little disappointing, because I was kind of hoping for an equal blend of both the series and the movie. Oh well.

Gates of Roses

By Spinny Roses

Chapter 4

Harry sighed softly, perfectly aware he was in the library, and looked over at his study mate. After that duel a few days ago, Malfoy had been his shadow outside classes.

"Why don't you spend time with the other Slytherins?" Harry had asked the first day as he watched Ron walk off, not even noticing that his friend had been stopped.

Malfoy's grey eyes had dropped. "Because you are my Master," he had replied, his posture betraying his matter of fact voice.

After trying to pull himself from his thoughts, Harry threw his quill down and started to leave. He sighed inwardly as he heard Malfoy's chair scrape on the ground as the blond stood to follow him.

"Why are you following me like this?" Harry hissed as soon as they were out of the library. "I am not your Master, or whatever. I'm not ordering you to stay with me."

Malfoy blinked. "Just like a Gryffindor," he said, emotions trying to fill his bland voice. He reached out and took Harry's hand, gently tracing the crest on the ring. "I am yours; the ring says so."

He seized this chance. "What do you mean? Flint mentioned something about the importance of this ring too. What is it?"

The blond hesitated. "I... I..." He battled with himself, visibly attempting to speak the truth. "The ring..."

"Out late, boys?"

Harry yanked his hand away from Malfoy's as he heard the oily Potion Master's voice. "Yes, Professor. Studying."

Snape looked down at Malfoy. "Curfew is approaching," he said almost kindly. "I would like to see you in my classroom before you have to be in the dorms."

Malfoy looked over at Harry, silently asking his permission. "If the professor wants to see you, you don't have to ask for my permission," he told him irritably. He started to leave when Snape called out.

"Potter. You will be moving soon to a new dorm." Harry hesitated, listening. "With Draco."

"Fine," Harry replied, cringing internally. Not only would Malfoy be with him every day between classes, but now every day after classes and as he went to bed. He sighed, going up to the Gryffindor tower.

Ever since that duel, life sucked.

***

"There. Is. Only. One. Bed."

"Is that a problem?" Malfoy asked, emotionless.

"Of course it is!" Harry snapped back. "I barely know you, and we're going to sleep in the same bed?"

"If it's a problem, I'll sleep on the floor."

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, it's perfectly okay to argue with me."

Horror spread across Malfoy's angular face, only to be mixed with a sort of hope. "But you..."

"No, I'm not." Harry sat down on the bed, sighing. "You are a person, Malfoy. No one owns you. You can argue with me. In fact, you should. You should argue with me. And insult me. It proves you're human, not this emotionless machine!"

"I can't," Malfoy murmured. "You won the duel... won me... I am supposed to follow the will of the winner..."

"And this is my will," Harry said firmly. "I want you to be human. I want you to have friends. I want you to be _free_ from... these duels."

Malfoy looked down at his shoes, then sat down on the bed. "Move over... Scarface." A ghost of a smirk lurked on his lips.

Harry blinked, then smiled. "No."

***

"I will never get this," the raven haired boy moaned, his head thudding against his book.

"It's not that hard, Scarface," Malfoy told him. At the beginning, Malfoy had been incredibly reluctant to insult Harry. A few weeks later, near Christmas, he had finally become comfortable with speaking informally with the boy.

"Oh, and everyone knows you're Snape's little Potion Brat," Harry snapped. It had been a particularly bad day in Potions. Ever since Snape had seen Malfoy and Harry talking, he had stepped up his harassment of Harry Potter. He lifted his head to glare at the blond studying Charms on the bed.

"You have ink on your nose now," Malfoy pointed out, a malicious little smile on his face.

"Oh, and of course _you _notice it because you're so perfect." Harry knew distantly that he was raving, but it didn't matter. "A little ink on the Boy Who Lived! How horrible!"

Malfoy shut his book with a loud clap. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Harry did the same, and stood from the little study table. "What does it matter to you? Any other flaws you want to point out? Maybe the scar on my forehead from when I lived from Voldemort's curse!" He ignored Malfoy's flinch. "Or my hair, and how it doesn't go with a Miracle Boy like me!"

Malfoy stood, and grabbed Harry's arms. "What is wrong?" he asked, his voice returning to his former emotionless inflections.

"Nothing. Nothing! The Boy Who Lived can't have anything wrong with him, can he!"

The blond looked into Harry's eyes, then up to the scar. Slowly, he released one arm to trace the raised flesh. "Does this have to do with this?" he asked, index finger lightly rubbing the scar.

Harry looked away from Malfoy's emotion-free face. "I never wanted to be a wizard," he muttered. "I never wanted this kind of praise and worship just because my parents... my parents died when I..."

"Harry."

He stopped, closing his eyes painfully. "Malfoy..."

"Let's go to the Astronomy Tower," Malfoy said abruptly. "We should be able to find an empty room." He let go of Harry's arms, and started to leave their room.

"Wait... Malfoy, what... oh, bugger it." Harry followed him. "Why the Astronomy Tower?"

Malfoy didn't answer him.

"Well, this is great. Won't the teachers catch us?"

"They won't."

"Well, I'm glad you're still listening to me." Again, Harry's words were ignored. "Augh."

Malfoy seemed to know exactly which room would be empty. "Here, Harry," he said as he opened room 3. "Look out of the windows from here."

Harry looked up at the windows. "Stars."

Malfoy stood next to him, and guided his hand up to point at some stars. "You see that one? It didn't appear until my mother died. And that one? That one is my father. It's dimmer because he's technically still alive."

Harry looked at the stars. "What are you trying to say?" he whispered.

"Watch the stars. Two of those are your parents looking down at you."

Harry's hand curled around Malfoy's. "Malfoy... Draco... what made you say that?"

Draco looked over at him. "When my mother died, I was sad. The circumstances... caused more than a few people to poke fun at me. But if I look up at the sky, I see her star. She's still there, watching over me."

Harry smiled slightly, and pointed up at the stars. "What's that one?"

Draco followed his gaze. "That's the North Star..."

***

"I said it before. I will _never_ get this," Harry groaned, looking down at the potion ingredients. "Which goes in first, the foxglove or thistle?"

"Thistle," Draco said automatically. "Foxglove isn't even a part of this potion, Scarface."

"Right, right..." Harry worked silently for a while, then looked over at Draco. "You haven't said anything about your mother since you showed me the stars."

"She..." Draco looked to be at a loss for words. "I loved her. She was my mother, after all. My first week here, she sent me all sorts of sweets to let me know I still had her support. When I was having problems in Charms, she encouraged me never to give up."

Harry absently stirred his potion. "How did she die?"

Draco froze, and shut the book he was studying. "Why does that matter?" he asked harshly, his voice quivering with emotion. "She's dead. She's dead, and Father's rotting in Azkaban. Other than my uncle, I have no family left."

"Draco..."

"Which way are you stirring?"

Harry blinked. "Uh... clockwise?"

"Good." Draco stood up and started putting away ingredients they didn't need.

"Draco, why is your mother's death such a touchy subject for you?"

"Because it was suicide," he snapped out. "Suicide that looked like my father put that knife to her throat to kill her in a Muggle way. Both my parents are disgraced." Draco slumped against the wall. "Are you happy?" he asked listlessly. "You know the Malfoy disgrace."

Harry stopped stirring, and got up. "Yes, I'm happy." He walked up behind Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I promised to free you."

"When did you promise that?" Draco muttered.

"I promised to free you," Harry repeated sternly. "And I will... even from these memories."

"You're just thinking of a way to thank me for stopping your childish rant."

"That's not it, Draco." Harry pulled his hand away. "It's because... you're a friend." Draco turned around, mouth open to protest. "I mean it, Draco. We live together... talk about serious stuff... insult each other playfully... we're friends."

Draco looked uncomfortable. "Friends... huh?" He tugged on the hem of his robe sleeve, glancing away from Harry's face. "The dueling winner... my friend." He looked back up at Harry, smiling a little. Suddenly, he darted forward, clumsily pressing his lips against Harry's.

Harry blinked as Draco pulled back, and touched his lips. "That was... weird."

"You didn't like it."

Even after pulling Draco out of his shell that much, he still took the worse possible connotation. "I'm not sure what I thought of it," Harry admitted. "It wasn't gross or anything, but... you're a boy."

"I... just wanted to try it." Draco looked nervously over at Harry.

Harry touched his lips again. "Why?"

Surprised, Draco looked at Harry full in the face. "Why what?"

"Why did you want to try it?"

The blond hesitated, then smirked. "Because you didn't ask for it. Because you didn't want it."

Harry just looked at the boy, then pulled Draco close to him in a firm hug. "Even if you think I won't like it, do what you want," he murmured. "It's still kind of weird for a boy to kiss another boy, you know?"

"I know." Draco slowly slid his arms up and around Harry to hug him. "Do you want to see if you can find your parents' stars?"

"What about the..." Harry let go and turned around to see his potion bubbling over. "Ack! No!" He rushed over and started to take the cauldron off the fire.

"Don't!" Draco picked up a vial, and handed it to Harry. "Get a sample first, then take it off the heat."

Harry looked over at the boy, but complied. He held the vial of the clear potion up, looking at it. "Is it supposed to look like this?"

"Yes, actually," Draco chuckled. "Look at the cauldron now that you took it off the heat."

Harry looked down, and raised an eyebrow, nudging the cauldron. "If I poke it, will it jiggle like Jell-O or will it be solid?"

"Jell-O?"

"It's a Muggle snack," Harry explained hastily. "It wiggles when you move it."

"A wiggling Muggle snack. Now I've heard everything," Draco deadpanned. "And no. It's pretty solid. It won't stick to the sides, though. And once you put it back on the heat, it liquefies pretty quickly."

"Ah. Okay." Harry looked at the vial, and tried to make the potion inside wiggle.

Draco snickered at his antics. "I told you it was pretty solid."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to put away the materials. "Thanks for helping me, Draco."

"Snape knows I'm tutoring you," Draco told him with a snort. "If you failed a simple potion like this, he would not be happy with me."

"You talk with him a lot," Harry noted absently.

"You remember that uncle I mentioned?"

"Yes, but..." Harry's eyes opened wide. "Wait a minute..."

Draco smirked, and took the vile of common bile from Harry's hands. "Yes, he's my uncle. He takes care of me now that my father's in Azkaban."

"What's Azkaban?"

Draco looked at the Gryffindor with incredulous disbelief. "It's the prison."

Harry felt very stupid at that. "Oh." He picked up the sample of his potion and placed it on Snape's desk. "Uncle Snape, huh?"

"Uncle Severus, actually. It's not polite to call family by their last name." Draco finished cleaning up. "The tower?"

"Of course." Harry smiled at the blond. "Maybe you call tell me more about your mother on the way up?"

Draco's lips tightened. "I'd rather not," he said tightly.

Harry just looked over at him, then hugged Draco. "You can tell me anything, okay? I want us to be friends like that."

"Friends like that...?" Draco pulled away, not looking at Harry. "It's... just a sore spot, talking about my mother. But..."

"Oh." Harry reached out for his shoulder. "Then I won't force you. But if anything is bothering you, don't hesitate to tell me. I don't want us to keep secrets from each other."

"Harry..." Draco looked up at him, grey eyes shattered under the force of emotions. "Let's go. To the tower."

Harry smiled, and opened the door.

And stopped.

In the narrow hallway, a small group of students stood. All of them had the Slytherin badge shining proudly on their robes. "Are you Harry Potter? The Gryffindor that won the duel?" a whiny female voice asked, putting disgusted emphasis on "Gryffindor."

"He has to be," a low male voice drawled out. "He has the scar and the ring."

"That boy won the duel?" a pompous girl's voice sneered. "Impossible. He's little more than a bean pole."

Harry could hear Draco coming up beside him. "Who are you people?" Harry asked, moving to protect Draco.

A boy stepped forward, his red hair combed neatly into place to frame a nasty and spiteful face. "There you are, Draco," he purred, reaching out. "We've come to take you back to where you belong."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Harry knocked the redhead's hands away, looking over the crowd of Slytherins. "Draco isn't going anywhere."  
  
"Draco belongs with Slytherins!" the pompous female voice sneered. "He doesn't belong with a Gryffindor. You have no idea what he is!"  
  
The redhead smirked. "Pansy is right. You have no idea what you won. If you can't use Draco properly, he should return to where he belongs." He raised a hand, a band of white glimmering on his finger. "He belongs with us."  
  
Harry looked around, noticing similar rings on all the Slytherins' fingers. "You want to duel for him." He shook his head. "No way. Draco isn't some plaything to be passed around in duels!"  
  
"You believe that tripe?" The redhead laughed, tilting his head back. "You don't even know what the duels are, do you?"  
  
"Blase," the whiny female voice grated out, "just get this over with. Once the Gryffindor loses, we don't have to worry about this."  
  
"I'm not letting you abuse Draco!" Harry told the crowd.  
  
Blase looked over Harry, lifting an eyebrow. "Are you willing to duel on that? On Draco's... happiness?"  
  
The raven haired boy hesitated, looking over at Draco. "I don't want to see him hurt," he whispered. Louder, he said, "I want Draco to be free from these duels. I will fight every one of you to keep him from being passed around like a toy."  
  
Pansy snorted. "He still has his noble heart! How... Gryffindor."  
  
"So I see." Blase pulled out his wand. "Then we'll duel. Right here."  
  
"What?" Draco said finally, spitting the word out. "Have you lost all sense of dueling?"  
  
"Draco." Harry placed his hand on the blond's shoulder. "Let's just get this over with. The faster I duel, the faster we can get to the Astronomy Tower."  
  
"Confident, aren't you?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at the redhead. "Wouldn't you?" He pulled out his wand, and nodded at Draco. "Do you have roses?"  
  
After a pause, Draco nodded back and pulled two crimson roses from his robe. He quickly fastened the roses to the duelists chests, then held out his hand for Harry's wand. Harry gave him the wand, and Draco held it close to his chest as it disappeared. "You're going to win?" Draco whispered as he cupped Harry's face.  
  
"Always," he promised, a power growing within him. "I will always win to set you free."  
  
The hand slipped down to Harry's chest, coaxing the power to reveal itself in the form of a sword. After the sword was drawn, he pointed it at Blase, one hand under Draco's back to support him.  
  
"Impossible!" Blase breathed. "The sword..."  
  
Draco straightened, and went over to the redhead. After giving over his wand, Blase ripped the sword from Draco's chest. "You aren't a real duelist, then," he drawled, pointed his own sword at Harry. "That is, if Draco can't find the sword within himself."  
  
Harry tensed, his hand tightening over the hilt. "It's a sword. The rules just say that I need a sword to duel, right?"  
  
"If you believe so." Blase darted forward, attacking ferociously. Harry put all his concentration into blocking all the slices, grimly looking for a way to counter. "You see? You can't win this."  
  
Harry's eyes landed on the ring encircling Blase's hand innocently, noticing the crest was done in black instead of pink. "I will win," he said stubbornly.  
  
Blase pulled back, watching his opponent pant with extertion. "Do you know what Draco is? Why we want to win him?"  
  
"That doesn't matter," Harry grit out.  
  
"He has the key to the power of eternity. Haven't you seen the castle yet?" The redhead smirked at Harry's confused look, and proceeded to attack again. Harry blocked Blase's attacks desperately, a little doubt worming itself into his emotions. "You haven't, obviously." Blase stopped again, watching the emotions play across the raven haired boy's face. "Do you even know who it is, really, that Draco follows the will of?"  
  
Harry's grip faltered. "That... doesn't... He will follow his own will!"  
  
A chorus of derisive laughter followed that statement. "Oh... stupid, stupid Gryffindor," Blase mocked. "Stupid, naïve Gryffindor. Why don't you ask him some time what the truth is? Or does he not answer you?"  
  
Harry didn't answer. His opponent took the opportunity to attack again, causing Harry to jump back to keep from losing the duel.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Draco's voice came from right behind him. The raven haired boy crouched down, ready to spring. Suddenly, he felt his hand changed the grip on his sword, pointing it back towards Draco. The slight pressure of Draco's hands slid across the tip of the blade, and a calm descended over Harry. He changed his grip again, placing his victory of the duel on this one strike.  
  
"It's done!" Blase cried triumphantly, striking. The sound of the swords meeting filled the narrow hall one last time, and rose petals started drifting to the ground.  
  
"Impossible."  
  
"With the fake sword, how...?"  
  
Harry turned to the Slytherin group, the rose still proud and perfect on his chest. "Anyone else?" He saluted the group with his sword mockingly. "I'll be happy to win against all of you." As he lowered his sword, the group parted slightly as if to let them pass. Harry strode through the crowd, Draco following shortly after.  
  
"You'll see!" the whiny female voice shouted out. "You think it's noble to save him. Just wait until that soulless body turns on you!"  
  
Harry refused to answer verbally, and instead lifted his sword slightly as if he was thinking about turning and using it on the girl. Draco reached out, covering Harry's sword hand. After a deep breath, they left the group of Slytherins behind.  
  
"Draco," the raven haired boy whispered as his wand was restored to its normal state, "I don't think I want to go to the tower tonight."  
  
A short pause. "I understand," Draco finally answered, his voice neutral.  
  
There was something he had to ask Draco. It was on the tip of his tongue... it was about these duels...  
  
Maybe he would remember in the morning.  
  
***  
  
"Draco, what are you doing?"  
  
"Shh. You are engaged to me, aren't you?"  
  
"What...? Stop."  
  
"You engaged yourself to me, noble one."  
  
"Your father, in Azkaban... Lucius Malfoy, the Malfoy family... France..."  
  
"Don't remember that."  
  
"France... family in France..."  
  
"Wake up."  
  
Harry woke with a start, Draco's voice still echoing in his ears. There was something important about France and the Malfoy family. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, and noticed something.  
  
Draco was no where to be seen. Puzzled, Harry pulled on a dressing gown. As he pushed his arm through a sleeve, his ring became caught on a loose thread. He pulled his arm out, and the ring slid off his finger to the floor. Harry bent over to pick the jewellery back up, and his fingers brushed over the cover of a small book. His curious fingers picked the book up, raising it close enough to his face that he could read the title without his glasses.  
  
What he read made him drop the book, memories flooding into his head. Harry touched his scar, eyes wide. His lips moved silently as he tried to process this information. Finally, he croaked out a sentence.  
  
"Draco is dead."  
  
Harry picked up his ring, and slowly slid it back on his finger. "Draco is dead. He's been dead for years. He died shortly after the murder of his mother, his father is insane in Azkaban..." He continued babbling in that vein of thought for another minute, his fingers lightly splayed over the cover of the book.  
  
Over Draco's diary.  
  
A pale hand gently covered Harry's slightly darker hands. "You shouldn't have picked that up," Draco's voice floated to him, tone cold.  
  
"What are you?" Harry asked, his voice being dragged out of him. "Y-you're... Ron told me. You were in that experiment. You died."  
  
"Everyone in the experiment died," Draco bit out. "My mother... my friends... my father might as well have... You have no reason to talk, Potter. You knew."  
  
He had, but... "I saw you. My first day at Hogwarts. You were there, more real than the ghosts. But you're dead. And you..." Harry looked up at him, the stunned feeling starting to wear away. "Why?"  
  
"Which 'why' do you want answered first?" Draco asked sarcastically.  
  
"Why did you show yourself to me? Not just that... but the ring. You gave me the diary! And..."  
  
Draco's lip curled in distaste. "Of course I gave you those things. That noble heart... it triggered the spell. He chose you and it was up to me to get you interested in having me. You're the same age as I was when I died... twelve..." Draco stroked his body, a leer on his face. "I doubt I would have interested you with the promise of this body. Keeping your interest on the project and who died certainly worked."  
  
"You cast a charm or a hex or..."  
  
"It was simply a spell, Potter." Draco gracefully took his diary from Harry's hands. "Like the one that keeps me here."  
  
Harry stopped, looking at Draco. All of his emotionless defences had been stripped away. What stood before him was a nasty, spiteful, and uncertain boy. "Tell me about the spell that keeps you here. Draco."  
  
Startled, the blond just stared at him. After a few moments, he started talking.  
  
"We thought we were going to gain immeasurable power. That's what the book said. The power of eternity... a castle where dreams, miracles... anything that shines could be found. We all wanted it. Some wanted it to prove something to their parents... some to revive the Dark Lord, for power. Yes, Potter, our families followed the Dark Lord, the one that killed your parents, without coercion. I wanted the power so I could do something for my father... to help him in the wizarding world.  
  
"The book said there needed to be a sacrifice. Someone willing to bear the entire weight of the spell. My mother volunteered. She would have done anything for my father and the Dark Lord. But the spell rejected her and she died. She died, my father went to jail, and I was the one that the spell liked. It created this world... a shadow to your world, always touching but never actually a part of it. And it killed me. Sent me here. To be a plaything for power seekers."  
  
Draco's voice became more heated, more acidic. "Whenever someone with a noble heart came to Hogwarts, that person would be pulled into this dueling game. For the power of eternity. That's part of how the swords are pulled from my body. It's my power now. But no one is pure. They say they'll win and save me, but in the face of limitless power, they forget about their promise and noble heart. They die and you will too. You'll see that power, Potter, and you'll die the same way I did."  
  
Harry stood. "I told you I'd win for you, always. You're wrong, Draco. During that duel, I'll win. I won't die."  
  
Draco's eyes fixed on a spot past Harry's ear. "Well then." He took a white rose from his sleeves, fixing it onto one of Harry's robes. "Wear that to your classes. The power that heads all of this will see it. The End of the World. He'll take you to the edge of this world, to the gates of roses, and duel with you." He smirked. "And he will kill you." 


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: Ah. The final duel. Everyone that has seen or read about the final duel will have an idea what I'm going to do to poor Harry. My Inner Draco is practically squealing.

About Draco... from my point of view, I've made him extremely Anthy-like, right down to his psychosis. I know the complete subservience and seemingly lack of personality got to Lauren at least. However, if you've ever seen Utena and paid attention to how cruel and cunning Anthy really is, Draco doesn't seem as subservient as a first reading will lead you to believe.

And now, in true Utena fashion, the fairy tale shell around the world I've built in this story is about to be completely shattered. Enjoy.

Chapter 6

The End of the World. The gates of roses, where the final duel will take place...

Draco stood at the rusted gate that lead to his rose garden, not willing to step into the sea of roses. When he was in there, it was a symbol of his stupidity, his servitude to the spell. But when the End of the World would step in there, the gates would reveal themselves, waiting for someone to open them.

There was no one left to open them. Draco smirked, running his hand across the top of the gate. He knew what would have to happen for the doors to open.

And he wouldn't let it happen.

"Thinking hard, Draco?" Strong hands slid across the boy's chest. Draco leaned back into the warm embrace.

"No harder than usual," the blond purred. "That boy... the Gryffindor... he's ready for the final duel."

The arms stiffened. "So soon? He has duelled only... once?"

"Twice."

"Ah." The word was littered with disgust. "He holds on to his noble heart."

"Not for much longer," Draco snarled. "But why do we talk of this? He will follow the path of the other duelists soon."

"Mm." The End of the World turned the boy around, and tilted his head up. "Indeed. You haven't come to see me recently."

Draco kissed the man. "I'm sorry," he purred. "Perhaps I will make it up to you?"

We only have eternity, a cynical part of Draco's brain spat out. 

***

It was if he was invisible. Harry touched the white rose gently, eyes narrow. He had gone to Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts, and yet neither of the professors had noticed him. In fact... none of the students had either.

A hand reached out, ripping the rose from his chest. "You are disgusting, Mr. Potter."

Snape. Out of all the people, Snape had to see him.

"Parading around, flaunting that pure, noble heart..."

Harry took a deep breath and looked up at the Potion Master, understanding spreading across his face. "You are the End of the World."

Snape raised a greasy eyebrow. "I'm surprised. Draco doesn't usually tell the duelist about the spell. You must have found out." He smiled, a ghastly look on his sallow face. "The rose garden, Potter. Come to the rose garden, and you'll see the power of the World's End."

"You're just like Draco," Harry told him. "I won't lose. I've promised Draco."

Snape was quiet for a moment, then turned away. "I've heard that. I have heard that often. And yet he remains here. If they couldn't do it, Mr. Potter, you can't."

"You're wrong, Professor." Harry looked down at the rose, the white petals scattered across the ground. "You're wrong."

"If you believe it. Noble one."

***

"The final duel is different than all other duels."

Harry glanced over at Draco. "What was that?"

Draco's eyes had glazed over, and ritual words spilled from his mouth. "The End of the World is not a duelist. He is more than that. He does not duel for me, but rather for the right to open the gates and release the power that had been sealed in years past."

The raven haired boy looked over the seemingly decrepit garden. "I made a promise. Power or no power, I won't break it."

"If you say so," Draco said mockingly, and opened the rusted gate. The two boys stepped into the garden, and into the sudden rush of wind.

Harry reflexively raised his arm, shielding his eyes from the burst. When he lowered it, he stood at the entrance in surprise. Instead of a lovely sea of crimson roses, the platform was nothing but barren stone with some odd monument in the centre.

Where the dove fountain used to be.

"Welcome to my world," Professor Snape's voice could be heard. "Welcome to the edge of the real world, where the power of eternity dwells."

"Always so theatrical," the blond murmured sarcastically. "Let's just get this over with."

Snape stepped away from the monument, a sword already in his hand. "Draw your sword, Mr. Potter."

Harry held out his wand, and Draco accepted it, transforming the wood into a handful of rose petals. Slowly, the Slytherin caressed Harry's face. "Stupid Gryffindor," he hissed, pressing his palm against his chest. With a savage movement, he yanked the sword out of Harry's chest. The raven haired boy managed to grab it and support Draco, but he felt violated.

"Is that how you feel after they would pull the sword from your chest?" Harry wondered aloud as Draco stepped away.

The other boy refused to answer, and instead stepped away from both duelists. Harry watched him move away, only seeing Snape's strike at the last minute. He jumped out of the way, starting to understand what Draco meant about how different the final duel was supposed to be.

Snape was the better duelist. Harry realised this as the professor scored another hit on him, causing his blood to splatter against the ground. He stumbled back quickly, reflexively covering the wound with his free hand.

"You won't lose, you said?"

Harry grit his teeth, lowering his hand. "I won't." With a burst of speed, he rushed forward, attempting to put the Potion Master on defence.

With a bored strike, Snape knocked away the pathetic attempt and cut a long trail across Harry's chest. He smirked as he watched the boy tighten his grip on the sword, breathing heavily from pain.

"I... won't..." Harry attacked again. Quickly, Snape side-stepped, stumbling against Draco. Suddenly, he grabbed the boy, placing the sword against his throat. "Draco!"

"You won't be able to save him." Snape pressed the blade against the pale haired boy's throat, almost drawing blood. "Well? Are you going to try to stop me?" When Harry didn't move, he snorted. "Pathetic." He released his grip on Draco, and pushed him into the Gryffindor.

Harry caught him reflexively, and glared over the blond's shoulder, at the oily professor. Slowly, he moved in front of Draco, shielding the boy with his own body. "I'll save him."

He felt a gentle hand grip his shoulder. Draco's hand. Draco hugged himself close to the dark haired boy, and kissed his shoulder. Harry shifted his weight, readying himself when a wave of agony erupted from just under his ribs. He looked down, blinking stupidly at the sword point protruding from his torso. "You..."

Draco's harsh laugh filled his ears. "You think you know what it takes to open the doors. I won't let you. You're going to be the sacrifice." He yanked the sword out of Harry, pushing him towards the monument. The gates. Harry fell against them, seeing the stone roses carved into gates. His blood stained the stone, leaving a trail as he slid to the ground.

Snape lowered his sword, and gathered his student, his nephew in his arms. "Are you sure he has a noble heart?" he whispered, holding Draco possessively.

"Does he?" Draco murmured back as Snape stroked his chin. "If the gates open, he is the perfect sacrifice, isn't he?"

Harry closed his eyes, not willing to hear this. Draco had betrayed him. He had... The boy groaned in pain, then croaked out, "Draco. You..."

There was no answer, then Draco's spiteful voice spoke quietly. "I have the chance to gain my body back, Potter. If those gates open without my blood, then I'll be released. I'll be able to live again. Your pathetic life is worth it."

Harry laughed, then coughed up a substantial amount of blood. "I didn't lie, Draco." He opened his eyes, blearily regarding the blond blur that was Draco. "But my life isn't worth the life of another's. I've used that card once already. It's worth nothing now, my... noble heart worth nothing." He coughed again, watching the blood flow out of his mouth. "If it was worth anything, I would use it to save you."

Was the ground rumbling?

He watched Draco stiffen, his grey eyes narrowing. "Liar."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry whispered. "I can't save you after all."

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to clear his lungs of blood once again. The rumbling grew louder, and he heard Draco's scream of horror over it.

"No! You have a sacrifice, by the gates! He's bleeding already..."

Harry opened his eyes with much difficulty, only to watch a sword embed itself into Draco's body. "Draco..." He started to push himself up, wincing as his body screamed in pain. "Stop it." He kneeled, legs weakened. "Stop!" Harry screamed, another sword flying out of no where. "I don't care about these duels. I don't care if the gates open! I'm giving my life for him; isn't that enough?"

"Shut up, Potter!" Snape ordered him, an unholy smile lurking on his lips. "The gates will open. It takes the blood of the one that is in servitude to the roses." He pushed Draco towards the gates, removing one sword as the boy stumbled forward.

Harry caught him before he could hit the gates, and fell over. "Draco."

"Why...?" Draco was actually crying. "Why didn't you keep your mouth shut? Why didn't you give up your noble heart to save your own worthless skin?"

"Because..." Harry hesitated. "Because..."

"Stupid Gryffindor. Nobility is everything to you." Draco moaned in pain, pulling the second sword out of him. "You should have been a Slytherin. Power hungry, like the rest of us... I wouldn't have..."

Harry hugged the blond to him, their blood pooling around them. "Listen. You were my friend. You... you are my friend. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I didn't want this."

"I know," Draco whispered, tired. "I didn't either." He looked up. "Go ahead. Make a wish."

Harry turned slightly, looking at the blood pooling around the gates. "You want your life back..."

"No. Don't waste it on me, you stupid Gryffindor." Draco coughed, his voice losing life. "Make a wish, and the power of eternity will make it come true."

"I wish this world would not exist anymore," the dark haired boy whispered, watching the gates open in response to his wish. "I wish that all the souls in this world be released to where they need to go. I wish... to save you, Draco."

Draco attempted to punch the boy. "Bloody... stupid..."

The platform started to crumble, and Harry lost his grip on Draco. The world became dark.

"Gryffindor..."

And then nothing.

***

The smell of lilac was in the air. Harry groaned, slowly opening his eyes, only to shut them when a bright light assaulted them.

His chest felt tight and itchy. The boy shifted slightly, trying to raise a hand to scratch his skin. There was an odd feel encircling his chest. It almost felt like strips of cloth tightly wound around him. Like... bandages. Harry opened his eyes again, more cautiously this time.

He was lying in a bed. Someone had tied bandages around his arms and upper torso, and they were already soaked with blood. There seemed to be so much blood that he wondered why he was alive.

In fact, what had happened? There was something about silver... metal. A sword. And pale hair. The more Harry concentrated, the more memories slipped away. Almost exactly like a dream...

Harry turned his head slightly, taking in the surroundings. He was in the infirmary. Which meant Madame Pomfrey was around somewhere. The lilac smell came from the table beside him. But that wasn't what caught his attention.

A gorgeous ring laid on the table, glinting innocently in the sun. That ring was important. It was, in the past. But... Harry just knew. It was nothing now. Just jewellery. He felt should do something with that ring. Once he was able to walk, he should take it somewhere. Slowly, he started to sit up, surprised at the lack of pain that accompanied the movement.

A sob rose in the back of his throat, built on the memory he couldn't remember. There was a person he missed. A friend that he had let go. A friend...

"Malfoy," he whispered, his voice breaking from emotions and need for water. "Draco."

Yes, that was it. The ring had something to do with Draco leaving. He had to put the ring in the place Draco had spent time in... in... the rose garden.

Harry had to say goodbye.

The End

Author's notes  
  
As I can see, not that many people have seen Utena or, like myself, have read synopsis and scripts of the final episodes. I should clear a few things up, shouldn't I?  
  
Why did I make the connection between Anthy and Draco, and why did I say Anthy is cruel and cunning?  
  
In Shoujo Kakumei Utena, the Rose Bride, Himemiya Anthy, first appears to be incredibly meek and subservient, much like the outer shell of Draco. However, even in the first episode one can see how cruel Anthy is. All through the first episode, she was calling the person who had currently won her "Saionji-sama." The suffix "-sama" denotes great respect. It would be used for a common person to the emperor, for instance. However, after Utena wins the duel, she says this:  
  
"Cheer up, Saionji... senpai."  
  
"Senpai" basically translates to "upperclassman." A freshman would use it to speak to a senior. It holds much less respect. That one little word, said with a smile, shows how calculating Anthy is with her cruelty.  
  
As I said before, I made Draco incredibly Anthy-like. He appears subservient, though with careful observation you can tell he's beating at that cage throughout the entire story. Because he is forced to follow the will of the one that won him, much like Anthy was, it appears he has no will of his own, no soul. However, that is just how others view him, and it is not the truth.  
  
Why did Harry mostly forget? Will anyone else remember?  
  
At the end of the Black Rose Saga, no body that became a Black Rose Duelist remembers the mental anguish Mikage inflicts on them to get them to duel. After Mikage loses the duel, no body even remembers him. The same holds for Utena at the end of the series. After she leaves the academy, no one remembers her. All they seem to remember is that there was some girl that wore boy's clothing. The only person that remembered was Anthy.  
  
In a way, that's what happened here. Harry remembers Draco, but it's a fuzzy memory. He remembers Draco's a dear friend, and he actually misses him. But that's it. It's more a dream to him than reality.  
  
Did everyone in the shadow world disappear?  
  
Yes. They were dead, after all. Harry's wish put their souls to rest.  
  
If there are any other questions about Shoujo Kakumei Utena elements and how they tie in, you can send them to bookie5409@yahoo.com. I am perfectly happy to explain what you don't understand, and I'll try to do it as clearly as possible.  
  
"If you listen to what they want, you understand what they're each lacking, don't you. A person who admires purity will continue lying to himself, and a woman who hates women will not be able to love herself. A person who admires princes is the one who's been most unhappy." Himemiya Anthy, Shoujo Kakumei Utena: Adolescence Mokushiroku manga


End file.
